


Short Drabbles of Dorks in Love

by inkwells_writing



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-08-26 10:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwells_writing/pseuds/inkwells_writing
Summary: I recently accepted prompts from a list on tumblr, so these are all short 100-500 word drabbles. Some are a little more serious and some are a little more silly, and they all feel like excepts from a story in my opinion. Hope you enjoy!As of now, each time I do one of these prompt lists and write drabbles, I'll add them all here. Each chapter will be just a different chunk of drabbles!





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, it’s cold. You really should take my-”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Sorts, why did the Prince have to be so fucking stubborn? Bad enough Alfred had to escort him to Clubs, but no. Of course their carriage had to get attacked. Alfred was just doing his job- just _saving the Prince’s life_ \- by dragging him away to hide out in the forest and continue the journey on foot, but the Prince couldn’t make things easy.

“Please, I can see you shivering. Scoot closer to the fire and take my jacket.”

“I keep telling you, I am fine.”

Such a statement would be much more convincing if his teeth weren’t chattering away.

“Prince Arthur, they’ll have my head if they find out I saved you from the attack but let you freeze to death in the woods. Just take my jacket, it’s ceremonial and gets in the way of my fighting anyways.” It was a lie, all the royal guard uniforms, even the ceremonial ones, were made to be fought in if needed, but Alfred assumed Arthur didn’t know that. It was better he thought the action was more of a necessity for Alfred than an action of pity.

It seemed to work, as the man looked up at him, “You’re sure?”

Sorts, if he wasn’t before he sure as fuck would be now with his beautiful green eyes staring up at him like that. “Yeah, take it,” Alfred said, holding out the coat.

The Prince slipped it on, and Alfred had to look away as he realized how cute the Prince looked being completely swamped by his jacket.

Bad enough Alfred had failed in his duty to protect the Prince once, he wouldn’t let himself get caught up in his emotions and put him at risk by getting distracted. Besides, the Prince of Spades was promised to whoever the Sorts decided were worthy enough to bear the Mark and the weight of the kingdom. Lucky bastard.

“You should get some rest. We have a lot of walking ahead. I’ll stand watch.” Alfred spoke bluntly, leaving no room for argument. The Prince, for once, listened to him and laid down on the ground, pulling Alfred’s coat closer around him and he scooted towards the fire.

The cold was nice. Easy to blame his red face on the chill, and it’d keep him awake.

He could get his coat back in the morning.

 

\-----

 

This was weird. Alfred could say that as a fact.

Arthur never stayed after their movie nights, especially not after his rough break-up a month ago.

That entire relationship had damaged their friendship, but Arthur was working hard to try and repair it. Alfred was just glad to have his friend back.

But this was weird.

And yet, when Arthur had turned his big, doleful eyes on him and softly asked, “I haven’t been sleeping well lately, can I stay here tonight?” Well, there was no way Alfred could say no to that.

If staying the night in Alfred’s dorm would help him sleep, who was he to say no? Thank fuck Francis was out for the night, because he really didn’t need to deal with his teasing the next day.

Of course, Alfred was so ready to help Arthur sleep by letting him stay over, he didn’t think of how it would affect him to have Arthur breathing softly on the other side of the room. So close, but so, so far.

They had sat next to each other during the movie, and Alfred had gotten progressively closer as the horror film began to get to him. By the end of the flim, their legs were pressed against each others as Alfred tucked his face into Arthur’s shoulder.

It was hell to have experienced that closeness and know what it felt like but have Arthur in the other bed.

However, Alfred would never make a move, not after what Arthur had just gone through. He would be the steady and reliable best friend for as long as Arthur needed.

He could only hope that the small signals he was picking up on weren’t just wishful thinking. He could only hope that one day Arthur would make the first move, because he really, really wanted to have Arthur always spending the night.

Francis could suck it.

 

\----

 

England was annoying, stubborn, and bossy to hell and back.

America refused to listen to him when he told him to do anything. It was his own stubbornness, mostly, but also a mix of pride and indignation.

But when England pulled him into a side room during the break of a particularly tense world meeting, America let himself be dragged. And when he looked him in the eyes and demanded, “Kiss me,” America quickly obliged.

The feeling of his partners rough and chapped lips against his own were heaven, and when he pulled England closer and heard that soft moan, it was better than heaven.

When England pulled away, breathing harshly, America was quick to pout, “Why’d you stop?”

“We should get going, the break will be over soon and-”

America yanked England close again, cutting off his words again. After all, he rarely listened to England. Once a day was enough for him.

 

\-----

 

Arthur was an idiot. That much was certain. It was the third time in one week he was up and out of bed at three am- and it was only Wednesday.

Alfred leaned against the door frame to the office in their apartment, watching the man type away furiously at his keyboard. He sighed and spoke up, “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Arthur jolted and turned around, glancing up at Alfred before turning away quickly, “I figured out this part. I just need to finish it up- I’ll be back in bed in a few. Apology for waking you.”

“Arthur…”

“Love, my deadline is approaching. I can’t afford to waste time, especially when I get an idea-”

“You’re wearing yourself ragged again, babe. Please, come back to bed.”

“In a little bit, I promise.” The typing picked up again, slower now. It was obvious Arthur was trying to ignore him, as if doing so would make Alfred leave.

Instead, he huffed and walked forward. Wrapping his arms around his thin frame, he ran his hands down Arthur’s arms, feeling Arthur jolt and freeze. Brushing down to his hand, he ran a finger along the ring on his left hand. He tilted his head and whispered into Arthur’s ear, “Is it going to be like this after the wedding too? Am I always going to need to pick you up and drag you back to bed?”

Arthur huffed and looked Alfred in the eyes, “You don’t need to do that tonight, love, I’m almost done-”

“Have you saved?”

A quick click of the keys before Arthur hesitantly answered, “Yes? But what are you- ah!” He screeched as Alfred lifted him up and out of his chair. Being a boxer had its perks, and the ability to easily lift his fiance was one of them.

“You’re coming to bed whether you like it or not.”

“Alfred! Put me down!”

“Nope!”

“You’re absolutely the worst!”

He laughed and nuzzled Arthur’s neck, “I love you too!”

 

\---

 

“You look like shit.” Alfred was always blunt. Alfred always got on his nerves.

It was no surprise to either of them when he hissed back, “It’s finals. What do you expect? Me to be planting flowers and kissing babies?”

“Jeeze. I only mean to say you look like you could use a hug. But I guess you don’t want one of my patented Alfred Hugs. Gil says they’re amazing, but you’re just too rude to deserve one.”

Arthur glared up at his friend, “If you come any closer to me I’ll kill you. I don’t care we’re in a public library. I’ll bloody do it.”

Alfred laughed, way too loud for both the setting and for Arthur’s headache, “Fine. I’ll stay right here. But, instead of a hug, how about I buy you a coffee. Or a tea. Or whatever has the most caffeine at the cafe. You could probably use a study break.”

Arthur looked down at his book, his notes, his highlighters (half of which no longer worked) and weighed his options.

On one hand, he needed to maximize his study time in order to ace his tests.

On the other hand, if he didn’t take a break soon he probably would kill someone. Also, it was a free drink. (And it would be like a date with Alfred.)

He sighed, “Fine. But we’ll make it quick,” He slammed his book shut and began to shove his notes back into his backpack. Standing, he began to walk away, feeling Alfred at his side.

“Awesome! Oh! You should try this new drink they have, it’s really good and it’s made with…” Arthur began to tune out Alfred, distracted by how he had slung his arm over his shoulders.

It was suddenly very warm.

 

\----

 

Arthur was always so fucking petty.

Alfred had danced with the Queen of Hearts, the Queen of Diamonds, and the Queen of Clubs, just as he was supposed to. It was customary! Arthur loved customs and traditions!

But apparently, Arthur _didn’t_ love when Alfred would go and ask the King of Diamonds for a dance.

He was being polite! Besides, Francis and Arthur had been good friends growing up. Alfred had wanted to ask about Arthur. Get to know stories from his past.

Sorts, there was nothing wrong with wanting to get to know your husband’s past.

But now, in bed, Arthur didn’t seem to understand his reasoning.

“Arthur, come on. Please.”

The man huffed and pulled the blanket higher over his shoulder, “Shouldn’t you be with Francis? You were getting rather chummy with him tonight.”

“Arthur, I already told you! I just wanted to chat with him a little. I don’t see why you’re so upset over this.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Arthur whipped around, sitting up and glaring at Alfred, hissing out, “Oh, yes. You’re so very right, Alfred dearest. Why would the silly, stupid Queen want to save the last dance for his King.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed, Alfred. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to the Queen’s chambers and- Woah!” Arthur cried out in shock as Alfred grabbed his wrist as he went to get out of bed. Alfred quickly yanked him close (too hard, reel in the strength) and wrapped his arms around his Queen as he scooted closer.

“Arthur, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized that would be the last dance. Me and Francis had been talking about what a little scamp you were as a child in the palace, I hadn’t been paying attention to the time.”

Arthur closed his eyes, but stopped struggling to get out of his arms. He sighed and pressed his face closer to his chest, “That doesn’t change the fact the Card Ball is once a year. It’ll be four more years until we host again.”

Alfred hummed, nuzzling into Arthur’s hair.

How to fix this?

He smiled and pulled Arthur away to look down at his Queen, “How about we go sneak into the ballroom and share the last dance right now? It’s midnight, and the workers aren’t going to start taking stuff down until sunrise.”

Arthur frowned, “There won’t be music.”

He beamed, “We don’t need it. Come on, it’ll be fun. No pressure to dance _well_ , just to dance.”

A small smile flitted across Arthur’s lips, “I suppose that could be fun.”

 

\-----

 

“Arthur!” Alfred’s long-drawn out cry sounded so childish. He refused to dignify such an annoying call with a response.

But, he also wanted to know if it was something important, so he looked up from his book. Alfred was sitting on the couch, his game controller tossed across the room. The man had an over-exaggerated pout on his face, with his lips folded down into a giant pout and he held his arms outstretched.

“What, dear?”

“Come cuddle?”

Arthur paused, before he chuckled, “I’m reading, love.” He turned back to his book, hearing Alfred’s indignant cry. Arthur could barely pretend to pay attention to his book as he watched in his peripherals as Alfred stood and made his way over to the armchair where Arthur was curled up.

Alfred leaned down, hands on his hips, that silly pout still on his face.

“Well, hello dear.” Arthur said as Alfred leaned in close.

“Cuddle.” Alfred demanded, swinging one arm out to point at the couch.

Arthur let a smirk grow, feeling it weakened by the fondness he knew was present in his eyes, “I’m reading.”

Alfred sighed, “You’re the worst husband ever.”

“Yes, yes.”

With another, louder sigh, Alfred spoke, “I guess I’ll just cuddle with you here.”

That was all of his warning before Alfred scrambled onto the armchair with Arthur, squirming around and manhandling Arthur onto his lap and Arthur began to cry out, “Alfred! Wait! Stop!” His commands were weakened by his laughter, and the uncomfortable position was made comfortable by the shaking of Alfred’s chest as he laughed.

Arthur slapped his chest and began to adjust his position, cooing out an, “I’m not leaving, love,” when Alfred tightened his grip.

He sighed and rested his head against his husbands sturdy chest, opening his book back up and angling it so Alfred could read over his shoulder if he so choose.

“See? It’s better to cuddle.” Alfred said as he flopped his head onto Arthur’s shoulder.

“I suppose. I was more comfortable before, though.”

“Hey!”

 

\-----

 

“Fire Fists, go!” Alfred cried out as his hands were coated in flames, and he began to quickly punch at the enemies around them.

Arthur paused in his own attack, lowering his gun as he sighed, “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Sticking his tongue out, Alfred called back, “Well? What do you want me to say?”

Arthur watched as an enemy got too close for comfort, feeling his body static out before appearing across the room, where he quickly fired at the supervillain's goon. “You’re still new to this, you have time to come up with a catchphrase. I’m just saying you should pick something more versatile and, frankly, interesting, than yelling out ‘Fire Fists, go.’ It’s rather silly.”

Alfred laughed out as he sent a wave of heat towards an enemy who was running for the computer on the other side of the room, “Oh, like your catchphrase is so good?”

Arthur glared at him before refocusing on the enemy. Firing off a quick round, he scoffed as he reloaded his weapon with practiced ease, “‘Now you see me, now you don’t’ was rather clever. A little redundant now that Matthew is on our team, but I made it up long before his powers even thought of manifesting.”

“It’s still kinda stupid.” Alfred teased as he punched out another enemy who had raised his weapon towards Arthur.

The hero huffed and forced his mind to focus on static, reappearing quickly behind Alfred, tapping him on his left shoulder, casing the hero to duck and shoot fire to his left as Arthur fired over his head. A practiced move, one needed if they were to be a good team.

“What would you suggest I change it to? Besides, the media hates when we change our catchphrases.”

“Whatever,” Alfred huffed. “Come on, we cleared this room. We need to get to the basement before Ivan does. I hate when he and Yao beat us.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and slapped Alfred on the arm, “Use their code names, please.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, mom.”

Arthur slapped him again, harder this time.

His partner was so childish.

 

\-----

 

Alfred frowned as he watched his boyfriend shift uncomfortably across the table. He’d wanted one night- _one fucking night-_ where he didn’t have to be Alfred F. Jones, movie star and up-and-coming Broadway actor.

But, no.

He couldn’t take his boyfriend out for one dinner without everyone around them so obviously taking pictures of them. He wasn’t stupid too, he knew that person had walked past the window at least ten times definitely worked for one tabloid of another.

He watched Arthur scoot the food around his plate, obviously afraid to eat and spill like he had the first time Alfred took him out for dinner. It had been the smallest stain on Arthur’s white shirt, the the press loved to call Arthur his “messy, uncultured boyfriend.”

Arthur didn’t deserve this.

His ‘fans’ cared more about him being accessible to them- unrealistically- than him being happy.

With that, Alfred frowned and slammed his fork down. “Arthur, you know I fell in love with you, not them? We don’t have to perform and pretend here. We’re not acting right now.”

Arthur looked up at him with an uncomfortable stare, “I just didn’t think people would recognize you, and they gave us a table near the back, I just-”

Alfred stood up and fished out his wallet, throwing down more than enough cash to cover the bill and a hefty tip.

He held out his hand and looked around, feeling the stares of the other patrons as they wondered what he was doing.

“Come on, this is New York City. I bet if we’re quick we can lose the paparazzi that’s been hanging out by the window all night. They hate going down to the subway- bad lighting.”

Arthur grinned and stood, reaching for his hand and laughing as Alfred took off running, taking a hard right out the restaurant door as he heard the obvious _click_ of the camera behind them.

As grateful as he was for getting as famous as he was, sometimes he wanted a night to himself and his boyfriend. And sometimes that took sprinting through the snowy streets of New York, Arthur giggling behind him as they weaved through Central Park, aiming for the subway entrance on the other side.

 

\-----

 

It sucked to be engaged but not married. It was stupid rules- wait until your coronations! But they had to wait for Alfred to turn 21 for _that_. And then they’d have to plan the wedding, in which they needed to wait at least three months so they didn’t make the other monarchs travel too much in a short time.

He was 20 and Arthur was 23 and he was turning 21 so, so soon.

It was taking too long.

And they were currently celebrating the Summer Solstice with a ball, and Alfred was having his own, personal ball trying to keep his hands off of Arthur.

The man looked amazing in the fancy blue suit, all form fitting and accenting his body and his hair was styled just right and his stuffy little scowl was put away in favor of a smile as he danced with Matthew.

Alfred wanted to drag Arthur away and get in _big_ trouble.

It would be so worth it.

But Arthur would never have it. Instead, he stepped forwards and tapped the Ace on the shoulder, smiling at his brother as he asked, “May I cut in?”

Matthew laughed and stepped aside, walking off to find someone else to dance with. He quickly filled in where his brother had been, reaching around to hold Arthur’s waist as this other hand grasped Arthur’s.

He sighed and leaned in closer to Arthur, “You have no idea how much I want you right now. We’ve waited so long, I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“Oh, Alfred,” Arthur whispered in a low voice that sent tingles down his spine, “You have no idea how much _I_ want _you_ right now.”

Alfred groaned and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder, taking care to not poke him with the placeholder crown he was to wear until he officially became King. “This sucks.”

Arthur hummed and looked around. He then pressed closer to Alfred as he tilted his head up to whisper, “Yao is dancing with his cousin right now, I told him he could invite her so they could catch up. I say we have half an hour before he’d notice we were missing. Matthew won’t say anything, he hinted at that as we danced.”

Arthur tightened his grip on Alfred hand and waist as he began to scramble away, “Slowly, Alfred. Let us not bring attention to ourselves.”

Alfred grinned down at his soon-to-be husband, “Fuck, I love you.”

Arthur looked up and returned the grin, “And I to you. Now, let’s hurry, dearest.”

They slipped away silently for the ball, believing no one noticed their exit.

Yao sighed and looked down at his pocket watch, resolving to give the idiots ten minutes before he went chasing after them. They’d been rather patient lately, they’d earned this.

Besides, it was hell for the Jack to watch them dance around each other at dinner.

 

\----

 

Arthur flinched as he heard Alfred take a deep, shuddering breath. He pulled him closer to his chest, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room. They were currently barricaded in an old house, Matthew and Elizaveta on watch while Gilbert gave the whole place a once-over, looking for any potential resources. Everyone else was laying down and trying to get comfortable.

Everyone was giving Alfred space.

Everyone had a breaking point- Alfred had hit his.

Getting surrounded and barely making it out unscathed could do that to a person.

Watching the person you love push you out of the way and almost- _almost_ \- get bit instead of you could do that to a person.

Arthur didn’t regret his actions. He’d do it again in a heartbeat; he’d do it again even if it meant he didn’t make it out again.

Alfred was worth it. He made a promise to Matthew- he’d keep Alfred safe when he wasn’t able to keep himself safe.

Everyone in their group looked out for each other. That was the only way anyone could make it through the literal zombie apocalypse.

And right now, Arthur had to look out for Alfred again.

He pulled Alfred closer, cradling his head against his heart, knowing the younger man felt comforted when he could hear it beating beneath him.

Alfred looked up and Arthur felt all of his heartstrings pull at the man’s tear stained face. He sighed and whispered, throat scratchy, “You make me feel safe. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, so please, Arthur, please don’t do anything like that ever again.”

Arthur let out a short, shuddering breath as he looked away, unable to hold eye contact. “I can’t make that promise Alfred. I can’t. I’m sorry. I would do anything for you- I can’t promise you I wouldn’t risk myself for you again.”

Alfred crumpled against him, letting out a choked sob. Arthur felt heat build up behind his eyes, a burning pressure in his throat. He didn’t want to cry.

He wouldn’t cry.

He continued to hold Alfred, cradling the broken man. He’d continue to hold Alfred until he was able to pick himself back up again. Until he could breathe easy again.

Until he was safe.

Until they were all safe.

 

\---

 

Arthur had never realized how… blunt demons could be.

He’d snuck downstairs of his teacher’s house when he was out of town for three days on a job, found the forbidden book he’d seen his teacher reading a few days ago, and performed the spell.

It was high level- higher level than anyone his age should be able to successfully pull off.

But Arthur wasn’t like the other warlocks.

Arthur was good at what he did. He pulled the spell off. He didn’t botch the pronunciation, the symbols were all correctly spaced out, and he was careful to not leave any gaps in the circle the demon could slip through. He was careful to watch his language when telling the demon what he was summoned to do.

He was not prepared for the demon to say, “Why do you care what body parts you have? If you’re a guy, you’re a guy.”

Arthur frowned. He’d expected backlash from the demon. He’d read and read about the rules of summoning a demon, what they could and couldn’t do for you. He’d expected the same negativity he got from the humans around him.

This blatant acceptance, snarky as it was, felt… strange.

But it was a strange Arthur could get used to.

Either way, he was getting the job done. He’d summoned a demon known for shapeshifting, and he was getting his way.

The demon laughed when Arthur reaffirmed this. “You don’t want me to, like, torture all the people who are cruel to you? They’ll know what you did to get this spell preformed.”

Arthur frowned, “Who cares what they think? I just need this spell done and then I can leave. My teacher had the book- I could never do this without it.”

The demon squinted down at him, “Oh shit, is the old guy who lives here your teacher?”

Arthur hesitated. It was dangerous to give demons too much personal information about yourself. But, on the other hand, “Yes, that old bastard is.”

The demon laughed, “Alright. This is so going to piss him off. He likes to summon me all the time to do weird shit. I was going to fuck with you a little, but if you can just take that book with you when you run so he _can’t_ summon me anymore, we’ll call it square, capiche?”

Arthur thought about the demon’s wording. Nothing about it felt like a trap, like he was backing himself into a corner. “Alright. You perform this transformation spell on me, and when I leave this town I’ll take the summoning book with me.”

A sharp smile flitted across the demons face, “Awesome. When you do get out of here, you should summon me again. You seem cool, Arthur. Now, this _will_ hurt. Like, a lot. Sorry about that.”

He only had a second to process how he never gave the demon his name when his body was set alight.

 

\---

 

“This fucking sucks.” Alfred hissed out.

Arthur laughed, a harsh and grating sound that, honestly, did not help Alfred’s nerves. “Oh, really? I thought things were going great! I was just about to start celebrating because of how bloody great everything was going.”

Alfred huffed and shifted his arms, feeling the rope grate against his skin. Being tied to a chair was never comfortable. Alfred hated how often he was in this situation. “Fuck you. This is your fault, anyways.”

Arthur, sitting in the chair against his back, jolted as he hissed, “How the hell is this _my_ fault, Mr. I’m-Not-Following-Orders-Anymore?”

“I’m sorry I was trying to protect the civilians!” Alfred grunted.

“Civilians! They weren’t civilians! If you had just listened to me, you would have known! They all obviously worked for Ivan.” Arthur continued his squirming, something that would be annoying if he didn’t know what Arthur was doing. “When we get out of this I should ask for a new bloody partner.”

Not liking the way his heart jolted, just for a second, at Arthur’s words, he scoffed knowingly, “You’d never do that.”

He felt the perpetual tug of the ropes against his wrists fall away as Arthur stood, rubbing his wrists. The man, his partner in more ways than one, sighed, “Yes, yes, you’re right. Now, please, let’s get out of here.”

Standing, Alfred smiled, “You got it.”

“But,” Arthur glared at him, “You are listening to me and obeying all my orders until we’re back to base. I’m not letting you fuck this up for us again.”

“Darling, you know I love following your orders.”

Granted, Alfred deserved that punch to the arm.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Is that a tattoo?” Alfred was floored. Of all the people he’d expect to have a tattoo, the straight-laced workaholic Arthur Kirkland was not one of them.

But, unsurprisingly, he was totally okay with that.

The red blush that rose from Arthur’s neck to the tips of his ears was totally worth the yelling that was sure to follow his question. 

He was just happy to have gotten to opportunity to see the tattoo at all. 

He’d been working late on a project with Arthur, and since his father owned the company, they could stay in the office as long as they wanted. However, no matter how rich you were suits were not comfortable to stay in all night, and it took surprisingly little talking to convince Arthur to shed his suit jacket and tie. 

Alfred was pleasantly surprised when the top two buttons of his shirt went too. 

And then he saw the tips of black ink swirling over his shoulder. 

_ That explained his tendency to wear high collars at all times. _

“It’s well within the dress code to have tattoos as long as they remain completely covered during work hours, and need I remind you, we are here long after work hours. I don’t know about you, but I would like to go home sometime soon, so stop staring at my college mistakes and get back to work.”

The analytical response was easily predicted, and Alfred found his soul dying at the thought of more nonstop work. So instead, he rolled his chair away from the desk, kicking his feet so the chair spun. He sighed noisily, grinning as Arthur scowled in his seat. After a second, he stood and walked over to Arthur. Leaning over his shoulder, he gazed down at what little he could see of the tattoo.

“Can I see the whole thing?”

The bright red blush was back as Arthur spluttered, “That’s highly inappropriate! We are still at the office-”

“But it’s after hours, you said so yourself. ‘Sides, it’s just your back. Unless it goes real low-”

“It’s only on my back.” Arthur quickly put an end to that line of thought. 

Alfred curled his lip into a pout, “I’ll get back to work once you let me see it.”

Arthur looked up at him, gaze wary. “You won’t complain or mess around?”

Suddenly excited, Alfred nodded quickly, knowing this could be his only chance to see Arthur und-

To see Arthur’s tattoo. 

“Yup!”

With a sigh, Arthur stood and began to unbutton his short, muttering all the while about how rude and annoying Alfred was being. 

Alfred couldn’t find it in himself to care about his harsh words.

 

\---

 

Sometimes Arthur worried about the company he chose to keep.

It was one thing to broaden his friend group to include all different types of beings magical and mundane, as he wasn’t a bigoted witch.

But it was another thing to surround himself entirely with idiots. 

So he sighed into the phone receiver, pinching the spot between his eyes as he spoke slowly, “I didn’t say “sex party” as in orgy. I said “hex party” as in witches. Because, as you know Francis, I am a witch. In charge of a coven. You’ve known this for the centuries we’ve known each other, you pompous bloodsucker.” 

“Did someone say ‘sex party?’” 

Arthur almost screamed as he heard his boyfriend run into the kitchen.

He quickly decided, no, he wasn’t going to put up with this as he heard Francis cackle over the receiver, hanging up and setting the phone down as he turned towards his partner.

As endearing as it was to see the fluffy tail and perked up ears that showed it was close to the full moon, it didn’t erase the fact that he was dating an idiotic, overgrown puppy.

“Hex party. I took Peter’s idea to rebrand the annual Summer Solstice to get the younger coven members more interested, but I’m starting to think that was a bad idea.”

Alfred nodded solemnly as he took a seat at the island, “Yeah, he was definitely fucking with you, babe. If you want to be interesting you gotta go full historical- fancy cloaks and pentagrams. Maybe even summon a demon.” 

He was lucky Arthur loved him.

“We don’t summon demons, Alfred.”

Shaking his head, Alfred spoke solemnly, “I distinctly remember walking into your off-limits library and seeing a fully drawn pentagram. Demon and all.”

“That was for work!” Arthur shouted, getting more annoyed by the second. “I swear, I’m going to die young because of you or Peter or Francis- literally anyone.”

“Arthur, you’re centuries old. You  _ literally _ can’t die young anymore.”

Alfred made the correct decision to turn and run as Arthur spluttered out an indignant cry, chasing after his boyfriend, hoping one of his hexes would land.

He was surrounded by idiots.

 

\---

 

Arthur was surprised he let Francis sit next to him for so long. Maybe it was the somber look on his face, or the way he was slumped over, or the fact he didn’t order a fruity party drink, instead calling out for a harder alcohol. 

Honestly, it would be wrong of him to judge. He knew exactly why Francis was so upset. He had the same issue.

Said issue was dancing with Elizaveta, laughing and bouncing around to song that was currently booming over the speakers. 

Alfred was beautiful, and it was no wonder Arthur had fallen in love with him.

It was no wonder Francis had as well.

Francis side-eyed Arthur, leaning back against the bar counter as he knocked back his drink, “I’m surprised you didn’t try and punch me when I told you I liked Alfred as well last weekend.”

Arthur scoffed, “I have no issue with it. We’re in love with the same person. Friendships have been built on less common ground.” 

A deep, sarcastic laugh erupted from Francis, and it was so pathetic Arthur couldn’t find it within himself to get upset when Francis plucked his drink out of his hands and downed it.

“You’re finally learning how much it sucks to be in love with someone so wonderful and yet so dense.”

Francis ran a hand through his blond hair, only succeeding in making it look more of a mess than normal. “I literally asked him to dinner and he said, and I’m quoting, ‘Sure! I love going to dinner with friends!’” 

Arthur snorted at the man’s attempt at an American accent. “That’s nothing. I told him I loved him and he said he was glad that guys could be so open with each other and their friendships nowadays.” Arthur held up a finger as Francis opened his mouth to speak, letting the silence add to the tension of his own person hellish story, “We were currently attending a Pride Parade, both of us covered in glitter and a rainbow banner above our heads.” 

Francis let out a loud laugh, giving Arthur a look of pity, “I cannot believe him. I’m starting to think neither of us will ever get through that thick skull of his.”

“Me as well. Honestly, at this point I think he’s just too polite to reject us properly.” 

“Perhaps we should both try at the same time. Maybe then he’d understand if we kept at it.” 

Shaking his head, he was about to respond when a warm, bubbly voice cut him off, “Who’d understand what?”

Both men looked up to see the object of their shared affections standing in front of them, slightly sweaty from his time spent dancing.

Arthur shared a look with Francis, both of them coming to a quick decision. Arthur slid over one seat, leaving an open one between him and Francis. “Sit down and we’ll explain, Alfred.”

At this point, what was there to lose?

 

\---

 

“Oh.” Alfred kept staring at the floor, his face a bright red. “This is, uh, embarrassing.” 

Francis nodded and motioned to the bartender for another drink, “Yes, you have been quite dense.”

He looked up quickly, gaze jumping between Arthur and Francis, “How come neither of you, like, actually told me!”

Arthur snorted, “We both tried.”

Gaze dropping again, Alfred kicked his feet together as he kept his hands clasped in his lap. 

It was obvious the lad was embarrassed, and as much a Arthur wanted to say something, he didn’t know what he could. To quote one of Alfred’s strange metaphors, the ball was in his court now.

Alfred tugged on the sleeves of his (tight-fitting) button up before he looked back at Arthur and Francis again, “I, uh. I suppose you both want an answer now?”

Arthur nodded, “I do think that is how these normally go when done right.” The bartender brought over the drinks, and Arthur picked his up and drank it quickly again. As much as he was feigning confidence, he could tell his nerves were starting to kick in.

He truly was in love with Alfred. He didn’t know what he’d do if he decided he liked Francis more, or neither of them at all. 

Either way, it would be better than not knowing at all.

“Is it weird if I say I kinda like both of you?” Alfred face was twisted with nerves, and Arthur felt his face flush.

“Both of us?” Arthur asked, confused.

At Alfred’s nod, Francis laughed, a bright smile on his face, “I am perfectly fine with that! The more the merrier, don’t you agree, Arthur?”

He couldn’t find it in him to disagree, that’s for sure. 

He’d been in love with Alfred too long for something as simple as  _ sharing _ to get in the way. 

 

\---

 

“What the fuck is that?” Alfred found himself speaking before his brain could fully process what he was seeing.

Arthur jumped, clutching  _ whatever the hell the monster in his arms was _ tighter against him.

“I found it in the recycling bin. And our complex allows pets, and it’s raining, and she has the sweetest face and-”

“Arthur, sweetheart, I love you, but that is not a pet.”

Arthur frowned and turned away, walking towards the bathroom. “Don’t be rude. She’s simply dirty. I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow, I’m getting my paycheck then so we can afford it, don’t worry. I hear her crying out and I couldn’t just leave her there!”

Alfred followed dutifully, grabbing a towel from the bin by their laundry hamper as Arthur brought the  _ thing _ into their bathroom. “Arthur, you still haven’t told me  _ what it is _ .”

Arthur turned sharply, petting the thing’s head as he cried out, “It’s a cat, you dolt!”

He squinted, leaning in towards the mess of mangled fur and dirt clumps. It hissed at him, causing him to jump backwards, “Are you sure?”

“I’m breaking up with you if you keep acting like this.” Arthur said as he turned the shower on, petting the maybe-a-cat to keep it calm.

“Hey! What the fuck dude!” Alfred was offended, “You’d pick that not-a-cat over me!”

Arthur nodded, somehow keeping the thing calm as he began to wash it. It was looking less and less like a cat by the second. It certainly didn’t sound like one. 

Alfred watched his boyfriend clean the  _ thing _ , now upset by the fact Arthur was serious. “Does our seven years of knowing each other mean nothing to you?”

“I never pegged you for a cat-hater, but I suppose people change, love.”

Alfred plopped onto the dirty countertop, “What are you going to name the thing, anyways?”

He saw the hint of a smile on Arthur’s lips as he realized he’d won. “I was thinking Crumpet. Or possibly Alice, after the first book you bought me.” 

Feeling his heart warm, Alfred couldn’t help but crush the sappy feelings with a snarky, “I thought you’d name it Cardboard considering you found it in the recycling bin.” 

He did kinda deserve to have Arthur turn the shower head on him, soaking him through and through. 

 

\---

 

Arthur felt his heart pounding as his feet thudded against the ground. He was always fast (just another part of being a rabbit) but that damned wolf just might be faster.

And then, he fell. Arthur watched as the golden brown ears dropped to the ground, and a quick scan of the ground showed a large root that was hidden by the bush the wolf had tried to run through. Slowing to a stop, Arthur adjusted his grip on his bow and his quiver, calling out a snarky, “Why the hell did you run from me?”

The wolf scrambled onto his back, trying to crawl away while keeping his eyes on Arthur’s bow, “I was scared and I ran! Please don’t kill me!”

And suddenly it clicked. 

Human poachers liked to hunt their kinds for sport, and this wolf had likely had one too many run ins with them. 

Arthur sighed and slowly set both his bow and quiver on the ground, raising his hands as he stepped over them, “There, look I won’t hurt you.”

The wolf still flinched as Arthur walked closer, but he was undeterred as he leaned down to examine his bleeding arm. “They got you good here, didn’t they?” Arthur reached out and grabbed the arm, slightly surprised at his lack of resistance. Reaching into the satchel he carried with him, he pulled out a bandage, “What’s your name?” He spoke softly, trying to keep him calm.

“Alfred.” He was hesitant, but his eyes were curious as he watched Arthur work.

“Do you have a pack?”

The wolf shook his head, “I got separated from my brother a few weeks back. I don’t… I haven’t seen anyone like me and him since we escaped one of their zoo’s.”

Ah. That made his obvious lack of survival skills make sense.

However, there was a much more pressing piece of information.

“Your brother? Does he look a little like you?”

The wolf jumped up, grabbing onto Arthur’s shoulders and shaking him, “You’ve seen him?” It barely sounded like a question with how loudly he yelled.

“Keep quiet!” Arthur shook his head and brushed Alfred’s hands off of him, “And yes. My pack took him in a few days ago. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

“You’re literally the best person ever.”

“We aren’t really people, Alfred.”

“Whatever. The best bunny!”

Arthur felt his tail twitch as he hissed, “I am not a bunny!”

The loud laugh the wolf let out was definitely going to alert every nearby hunter. Arthur picked up his bow and quiver, knocking an arrow in anticipation. “Try not to get us killed on the way back.”

The wolf’s apology did not sound sincere. 

 

\---

 

Sometimes Arthur regretted the things he’d say to make Alfred happy.

He couldn’t help it! The way his eyes would light up and he’d bounce for joy in anticipation always brought a smile to Arthur’s face.

But right now, staring in his mirror, he began to regret his words. 

He regretted shrugging and forcing casualty as he said, “You should see me in my old uniform. I’m pretty sure it still fits.” 

He really couldn’t help but wanting to make Alfred happy. He’d gotten- well, not jealous but… upset at how Alfred had been gushing over the badly designed “historical” costumes he was looking at. 

And they just happened to be staying at Arthur house that held his old outfit.

He twisted in the mirror, wondering if he looked as stupid as he felt.

While the large plumage on the hat and calf-length coat was once a sign of a daring adventurer, he now felt silly and over-dressed. 

Either way, he was a gentleman. And gentlemen always keep their word.

So with a deep sign, he turned towards the door, boots clicking against the ground as he made his ways down the old stairs in his home. Just as he was about to round to corner to the living room where he’d told Alfred to wait, Arthur took a deep breath and straightened his back, resting his hip on the surprisingly not-rusty sword he’d pulled from it’s hooks above his fireplace. 

“It’s a bit dusty, but it gets the point across, and-”

He stumbled over his words at the sight of Alfred staring, slack jawed, eyes scanning up and down his body. 

He huffed and crossed his arms, somehow more embarrassed, “It’s a rather silly outfit nowadays. But you’ve got your fill, so I’ll go change-”

“Wait!” Alfred called out, scrambling over his feet as he grabbed at Arthur’s arm. “It’s-uh-” Alfred swallowed, before he tilted his head up a little- the boots did give him a few inches, Arthur realized. He’d forgotten that part of the outfit. Alfred seemed in awe of the fact as he grinned, lopsided and shy, “It’s kinda hot.” 

Arthur face was suddenly as red as his coat. 

 

\---

 

“You look happy.”

Arthur titled his head up, looking at his partner- no, his  _ husband _ , “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Alfred giggled and wrapped his arm around Arthur’s shoulder, tugging him closer, “It’s just nice to see you smile like this.”

“It’s our wedding day,” He felt his heart warm just by saying those words, “I have a right to be smiling so much.” And he was. He woke up that morning a nervous bundle of energy, and he was afraid the feeling would follow him throughout the day, but it had faded the moment they’d gotten to the venue and Alistair had helped him into his tuxedo. 

It had hurt only for a moment to know that only his brother would be attending the wedding, but then he’d brushed the feelings aside. Why should he invite the people who didn’t care about who he was?

Alfred seemed to sense his thoughts because he tugged Arthur closer still. He buried his face into his hair, smiling, “You look so cute in that tux, but you know where it’d look nicer?”

Arthur stepped back and placed a hand on Alfred’s chest, “Oh, dearest,  _ please _ enlighten me on where it’d look better.”

He plucked the hand off his chest, giving a quick kiss to the fingers as he grinned, “On the floor of our suite.”

“This was expensive and you know it. We are  _ not _ leaving it lying on the floor.” Arthur ran a hand down the pristine white suit, before he let his previous thoughts envelope him. “You know, I never imagined myself in a wedding dress as I was growing up.”

Alfred turned his hand so he was clasping Arthur’s giving it a squeeze as he looked out over their celebrating friends. “That probably should have been your first hint.”

Arthur laughed, nudging Alfred with his shoulder, “You’re hilarious, dearest.”

“And you love me!”

“That I do.”

 

\---

 

England placed a hand on the pair tugging at his shirt. He stepped back as much as he could in the small closet, looking up at America in the darkened room.

“If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.” He spoke clearly, making it obvious he wasn’t going to make it easy for America to get him undressed in a  _ closet _ .

“England,” America’s long, drawn-out cry got a pitch too loud, “Come on, we haven’t seen each other in months! And you wouldn’t let me kiss you in front of everyone else, and I  _ know _ you want to because I saw you watching me during the meeting and-”

England cut off America’s incessant ramblings with a quick peck, reaching a hand up to smooth down America’s hair, “We really should wait, love. We’ve waited this long, we can wait until the meeting is actually over and not just on break.”

America groaned, leaning his head down to flop on England’s shoulder, his hands still gripping the hem of his shirt, “England, come on. I know neither of us want to wait.”

_ It really had been a while, and- _

_ No.  _

_ Well, maybe _ .

“You can kiss me, but keep those grabby hands away from  _ under my shirt- Alfred!” _

America giggled and pecked at England’s hair before leaning down again and kissing him, the action difficult with his smile getting in the way. 

 

\---

 

“And then, I made the mistake of thinking, ‘this can’t get weirder,’ and guess what!” 

Arthur took a sip of his drink before calling out across the table, “It got more weird.”

Alfred nodded vigorously, before going on to recount his story to the rest of the crew. Everyone was laughing and smiling, obviously no longer worried that their  _ bloody captain was stranded on an uninhabited planet for three days _ because he was so obviously perfectly fine. So fine, he could joke and tell the story like he hadn’t broken numerous protocols and worried his first mate to death-

But, no. Alfred didn’t care and he didn’t notice. 

Standing from the table, Arthur began to leave the mess hall when he decided his stomach couldn’t take the twisting feeling that had been growing the more he listened to Alfred talk. He barely processed as Alfred stopped talking and excused himself, running after him.

Of course. Of course Alfred would notice when he left.

Why could he never get peace and quiet?

“Arthur! Wait up.”

He did not, in fact, wait up. He tried to round the corner and get to his study before Alfred could catch up, but unfortunately for him the ship had to have extremely long corridors, meaning Alfred had just enough time to grab his arm and look at  _ him _ all concerned and ask, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing, go back and continue your story. I’m sure the crew can’t wait to hear the rest.”

Alfred blinked and stepped back, obviously confused by his harsh tone. They’d grown close throughout the first year and half of their mission. Arthur had been warming up to him, letting him in. Obviously a mistake, because look where it got him.

Worried out of his mind and on the verge of making bad decisions in desperation to help Alfred. 

“Are you mad at me?” And Alfred just had to be so extremely dense. 

“No.”

“Arthur! Come on, you’re my first mate, you gotta communicate with me here.”

Arthur huffed and tapped his foot, crossing his arms as he glared at Alfred’s stupid pretty face, “You need to be more careful.”

Alfred frowned and opened his mouth, before he hesitated. Something must have clicking in that head of his, because he then sighed and let one of his hands rest of Arthur’s shoulder, “I’ll try and be more careful next time I’m doing recon, okay?”

“You won’t.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Alfred sighed, “Then you can come with me next time to watch my back.”

Arthur blinked, not expecting that response, “That’s not how we’re supposed to do things-”

“Oh, fuck protocol.” 

And, for some reason, Arthur couldn’t find it in him to disagree.

 

\---

 

“‘Sup,” Alfred said as he slid into the stool next the only other young man in the bar. 

Straight people said ‘Sup,’ right?

The other man seemed surprised by his greeting as he fumbled with his drink, “Ah, yes, hello.”

Ah, crap. He was British! He had the cute accent and everything. Nice blond hair, pretty green eyes, and he looked around Alfred’s age. 

This was why Alfred stayed away from non-gay bars. He just got disappointed. 

“How’s your evening been?” God, Alfred, could you be more boring?

“Alright, I suppose. Not many, uh, cute girls here.” The other man spoke slowly, and Alfred wondered if he was making him uncomfortable.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, a young woman approached them, smiling all the while, “Hello! You two looked lonely, mind if I give you company?”

Alfred had planned on staying silent and letting the other man he was sitting next to take control, because he never knew how to talk to girls who were so obviously wanting his number, but the other man was quiet to. He took a quick glance over at him, only to find him looking back at Alfred. 

Internally panicking, Alfred smiled, “We’re just two bros sharing a drink, I don’t think we’re all that lonely.” 

The girl’s smile dropped and she awkwardly shifted, “Yeah, okay…” 

As she turned and walked off, Alfred wish not for the first time he wasn’t so awkward. He looked over at the guy he was sitting next to, who’s eyes flitted over to Alfred’s. The man gave him a lopsided smile and raised his drink, “A woman’s sexuality is a moving target.”

Alfred couldn’t help it. He snorted loudly, quickly devolving into laughter, “I’m sorry, but what the  _ fuck _ does that mean?” Straight people were an anomaly. 

The man began to laugh lightly, “I have no idea. My straight friend said it once, and I felt like it applied.”

Alfred stopped laughing, taking the in information that this man was decidedly not straight, when the man began to shift in his seat, “I mean, uh-”

“I’m gay.” Alfred blurted out.

The man blinked, before he took another sip of his drink, “And I’m Arthur, it’s nice to meet you.”

Alfred felt a large grin creep onto his face, “I think we’re both a little stupid, aren’t we?”

Arthur nodded, “And very much horrible at pretending to be straight men.” He reached over and clinked his drink against Alfred’s, “I’ll buy the next round.” 

 

\---

 

Personal opinions aside, Arthur was a professional. He wasn’t going to let some petty rivalry get in the way of his success.

He especially wasn’t going to get distracted by how handsome said rival was.

Either way, Arthur was very much ready to be able to punch him in the face.

Over and over.

Boxing was a very nice stress relief, that was for sure. 

And yet, this time, standing across Alfred in the ring, he found himself wanting to pull his punches. 

Alfred had been his rival for a while now, he was the young rising star who hoped to win the championships his first year.

Arthur was the old favorite who planned on winning his last championship before retiring (at a modest 29) and training more newbies. 

Every time he’d watch Alfred box, he found himself rooting for his rival in the hopes to see the beautiful smile bloom across his face when he’d raise his fist in victory. 

Arthur lashed out, punching quickly towards Alfred, who only just dodged. He smirked, laughing as he punched back.  _ That _ was why Arthur hated him. So cocky and so in love with being in the ring. It was annoying.

It was also  _ very _ much annoying when Alfred would move in close and whisper things that the referee and the cameras couldn’t hear. 

“You might not like me, but you definitely want me.”

“You look amazing in your cute little outfit.”

Arthur was well used to the comments by now, but sometimes he still managed to trip him up.

“If you do start training newbies, think I could join?” It wasn’t the comment, but the earnest tone behind them that caused Arthur to falter, but just for a second, letting Alfred get an opening for a solid shot. 

Alfred simply laughed and danced away again, and Arthur knew he’d be feeling that in the morning.

With a sigh, he spoke, “Perhaps you could,” And he punched back, unwilling to lose to someone who certainly never got real training.

He’d never have Alfred’s respect as a teacher if he didn’t beat him now. 

 

\---

 

“Men suck,” Amelia huffed, crossing her arms as she flopped onto their couch. Alice sighed and walked over, sitting next to her girlfriend and running a hand through her hair. 

“Yes, they do. Quite annoying.” She leaned into her girlfriend, looking up at her, “Why so annoyed today?”

Amelia pouted and looked down at her, lifting a hand to run it through her short hair, “This guy kept flirting with me and he wouldn’t stop.” 

Alice frowned, “I’m sorry, darling.” 

Shifting lower into the couch, she huffed, “No need for you to apologize.” She squirmed more, a sign for Alice to get up. Amelia stood when her girlfriend got off her her, walking to the kitchen. “I wanna forget about it. Do we still have that wine Marianne left?”

Alice nodded, “Do you want to get drunk?”

“It’s a Friday night, I had a shit day at work, let’s get wasted and then go piss on that guy’s grave.”

Alice laughed as she opened a cabinet. “I don’t think he’s dead, lovely.” She reached up, trying to grab the bottle on the top shelf but huffing when she couldn’t reach.

Walking over, Amelia leaned over her and snatched the bottle, setting it on the counter as she went to dig for an opener, “Not yet!”

She turned, sitting on the counter as Amelia opened the bottle and took a swig, “Don’t hog it.” Only when the bottle was in her hands did she continue, “Also, I really don’t think you want to be making threats like that.”

Amelia shrugged, “The guy was old as fuck. Chances are he ain’t got much time left. ‘Sides, we’re both trans  _ and _ super gay. That gives us so much power.” 

Giggling, Alice handed the bottle back to Amelia, “Is that how it is?”

“Of course!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If yall want to be able to send requests for these, you can follow me at my tumblr @inkwells-writing   
> i'll probs do another one of these again soon! also, the prompt list where i got all these is on my tumblr if you're curious!! thank you for reading !!!


	3. Chapter 3

“Arthur, I’m dying.” 

“I suppose we will have to begin preparations to search for the next King, then.”

“Hey!”

Arthur glared at him from across the carriage. The man (boy-king, really) had been complaining the entire time about how cold it was getting. Of course it was cold! 

“We’re traveling to Clubs in late-fall, you should have expected it to be freezing.”

“Well, yeah, but not  _ this _ cold. It’s cold in here. Like, super cold. Why can’t we-”

Arthur groaned, “Will you please stop whining! I am not going to cuddle with you!” For you see, despite how annoying his King could be, the man was rather… handsome. And charming. And funny. And he made Arthur’s heart beat fast and his face warm in ways that were entirely inappropriate for their situation. 

He couldn’t risk Alfred figuring out he felt romantically for him. And it was just his luck Alfred was a very touchy person. Arthur was, for once, glad he had been born and raised in politics. He had practice keeping his true emotions locked up.

And yet, Alfred was really good at doing unexpected things.

“You’re so mean!” Alfred whined as he slid across the carriage to sit next to Arthur, pulling on his cloak until it also rested around his shoulders. “This is much better,” he hummed as he burrowed into Arthur’s side.

Arthur looked out the window sharply, praying desperately to the Sort that his red face could be blamed on the increasing chill in the air. 

 

\----

 

It’s hard to think when you can hear the screams of soldiers around you. It’s hard to breath when the air is filled with fiery smoke. It’s hard not to cry when you can’t find your Queen through the masses of people screaming and fighting.

But Alfred was the King of Spades, so he wasn’t going to cry. He was going to find his Queen and not let the idiotic man leave his side again.

So what if he had healing magic- he couldn’t heal himself if he fell to grave injuries! And what would Alfred do if he was hurt? Arthur needed to think ahead instead of running off to fight alone and-

“Alfred, you need to calm down.”

He whirled around with a glare to see his brother standing behind him, holding tightly to his bow. He had only a few arrows left, but the long dagger at his side would suffice once his long-range attacks were no longer an option.

“I am calm.” 

“You are not. Just breath. We will figure this out. We’ll find your idiotic husband and end this battle and then end the war and then you can yell at him or kiss him or whatever it is you two do after. But right now you need to stop panicking.”

“I am not panicking.” It was only a half-lie. Internally he was screaming, crying, desperate to find Arthur. Not having him by his side burned deeply. 

“The Queen of Spades is a very powerful magic user, and if he is unable to cast magic, I pity any man who tries to best him in a sword fight. It’ll all be okay.”

“But-”

“This isn’t the time for you to over-think, Alfred. Turn off that big brain of yours and  _ fight for our kingdom. _ ” 

His brother was right. He couldn’t help Arthur, or any of his citizens, if he kept getting lost in thought. So, he let the sounds of the battle drown out everything in his head and forced the power of Spades to take over.

He had a battle to win. 

 

\----

 

Arthur wasn’t a stupid man. He always thought through his ideas, always planned ahead. But his boyfriend always teased him for such things, and always told him to be more impulsive. 

However, his current situation probably wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, if his growling was any indication.

“Let go, or so help me, I will bite you.” 

Not the weirdest threat he’d ever heard, but certainly up there. The situation, however, was the strangest.

His boyfriend, currently quite hairy, with big fuzzy ears poking out of the top of his head and big, bright fangs sticking out of his mouth, was growling at him- or, more specifically, his hand that was grasping his. 

“No.” Perhaps Arthur’s bravest moment. And most stupid. He was never going to act impulsively again. But right now, he was sticking to it, because he deserved some answers about what was going on.

He was, apparently, dating a werewolf. Which was a lot to process, and he wasn’t going to be left alone while Alfred howled at the moon and chased cars. 

“I’m not letting go until you tell me-”

Alfred was much closer now, still growling, “Arthur, let go. Now.”

His grip loosened against his will, and seeing his chance, Alfred ran off, deeper into the woods.

Arthur sighed and followed, knowing it was going to be a long and confusing night. 

 

\----

 

When Arthur entered their home, he knew he was going to have to fight with Alfred again. His idiotic partner was overworking himself in hopes of getting a promotion, and that meant taking extra work home to show his boss he was dedicated.

As if it wasn’t already obvious he was. The man likely had more hours put into the company than the founder did. 

Now, Arthur wasn’t upset that Alfred was working hard and taking some paperwork home with him. That was fine with him (so long as Alfred was getting compensated for his work). Arthur often worked at home, memorizing lines and whatnot. It’d be hypocritical for him to get upset.

However, he could easily get upset when his partner didn’t take care of himself. So when he entered the kitchen and saw no dishes in the sink, the leftovers from the night before uneaten, and the bread unopened, he knew he’d have to yell at Alfred.

He made his way to Alfred, who was hunched over at the table, making calculations and writing what seemed like gibberish to Arthur. 

“Hello, dearest.” He gave Alfred a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Arthur. I’m almost done here, about half an hour left, probably.”

“That’s fine. I’ve just a quick question.”

Alfred set his pen down and looked up with a hum.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Alfred squinted behind his glasses, a slight embarrassed flush on his cheeks that proved to Arthur he’d caught him.

“If you have to think that long, you need to eat something.”

“When I’m done I’ll grab-”

“I’ll heat the leftovers now. You can finish your work when you’re done.”

“Arthur-”

“I’m not budging.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to look at him, “You’re so stubborn.”

“Yes, I am.” 

 

\----

 

Fumbling with the bags in his arms, Alfred didn’t realize there was another person in the hallway until he’d rammed into them. Groceries slid across the floor, and it took Alfred a second to realize they weren’t just his own. 

Looking up, Alfred’s hurried apology died in his throat. There, standing across from him, was the (really cute) man from 34D, the room right across from his own. He must have hesitated too long, because the man spoke, “Oh my! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!”

Alfred let a nervous giggle escape, “No, you’re cool. I ran into you.” He adjusted his glasses and knelt down to begin to pick up the food.

“I suppose we’ll have to sort through this all, won’t we?”

Another embarrassing laugh escaped (why couldn’t he act normal around a cute guy for once?) and he nodded, “At least I’m not in a rush. No frozen's for me this time.” (Really? That’s the line you’re using?) 

“Same here. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a soft spot for those ice cream bars. They remind me of this brand back in England.” 

Well, okay. That was more than casual conversation. Alfred decided to take a shot in the dark and he stuck out his free hand, “I’m Alfred.”

The man looked surprised, but quickly smiled, “Arthur.” He shook Alfred hand, then reached down for another package.

As Alfred finished shoving the last of his own food in his back, he reached for a bag of fruit and handed it to Arthur, feeling his stomach warm from the smile he got, “So, how long have you been living here?”

Arthur laughed, “In this complex or America?”

“Both?”

Arthur smiled, “About a year for both. However, I’d say it was far too long to go without speaking to you.” 

Oh shit, that was smooth. Alfred grinned, “We could make up for it tonight? Perhaps over coffee?” 

“Perhaps.”

 

\----

 

College was already confusing, and scary, and difficult. Alfred didn’t need a creepy cult-y roommate on top of it all. He’d just wanted to save money by staying in the dorms instead of off campus.

And of course he’d gotten stuck with some guy who wore all black, talked to plants, read far too much Shakespeare, talked about witchy things, and was kinda hot-

Nope. 

Alfred was refusing to let himself get to the point of no return in that line of thinking.

However, aside from a few weird hobbies, the man, Arthur, wasn’t too weird. Just a little creepy. 

Until, late one night when they were both studying for midterms, the man spoke up out of nowhere. 

“So, just theoretically, do you know any good places to dump a body?”

Alfred almost shit himself. He laughed awkwardly and was frantically trying to think of some way to ask for a new roommate when Arthur continued, “Because if I have to write much more of this twenty page essay I just might lose it.”

His anxiety calmed down as he realized this was his roommate trying to make a joke. One that would have worked much better without his deadpan tone and affinity for taxidermy, but a joke nonetheless. So he responded, “Well, there is this nice spot behind the quad I used last year when my bio teacher assigned us a group project.”

Alfred refused to turn around when he heard the man’s bark of laughter, afraid if he did so, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself back from falling. 

Why’d he always have to go for the weirdos?

 

\----

 

If he sneezed one more time, Arthur was going to kill himself. At least then he’d get a week of rest and he’d awake without this stupid cold. 

He’d have other issues, but they were beginning to seem worth it.

He felt the burning in his nose that signified another hellish sneeze, and turned his head away from the large meeting table to cover his mouth. Turning back around, he blinked when he saw a steaming paper cup with a tea bag hanging over the side. 

That hadn’t been there before. 

A soft voice spoke into his ear, “You keep sneezing. Are you sick or something?”

The teasing tone was not lost on him, and any other day he would have flushed with embarrassment at the closeness of the man, but instead he kept his eyes on the tea as breathed in it’s smell.

His words came out scratchy as he asked, “Ginger tea?”

Alfred grinned and sat next to him, waving his own up of coffee in the air, “I stopped to get some coffee during the break and you looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

Reaching for the cup without another word, he closed his eyes and took a sip, letting it’s warmth wash over him. Speaking with much more honesty than he’d intended, he looked over at Alfred and said, “Thank you.” 

And as Alfred’s face turned a bright red and he turned away, concern spiked in him as he continued on, “Are you also getting sick? You shouldn’t sit next to me, I wouldn’t want you to catch my illness and-”

“No, no. I’m fine.” Alfred looked back at him, a hesitant smile on his lips. 

Arthur couldn’t find his words and took a sip of the tea again. 

He hated how foggy and confused he got when sick. 

 

\----

 

Alfred knew what he was doing was dangerous, but he persisted anyways. Playing a video game with Arthur curled up in his arms was always risky, considering how much he flinched and moved when things got intense, but he really, really needed to beat the new boss. DLC only came out once in a great while, and he wasn’t going to let Kiku or Gil finish it sooner than him and spoil it. 

So, he was playing it at one in the morning, with a very warm Arthur draped across his chest. And it was going well! He was winning, and he had barely even moved the entire time. Sure, his arms were getting tired being held up like they were but it was fine. 

It was all good.

No it wasn’t- he hadn’t expected a new form, and so when he moved, he may or may not have jostled Arthur. And by ‘jostled,’ he means hit him in the face with his arm.

Oops?

Arthur was awake right away, sitting up and glaring at him in the dark, eyes blurry with sleep. He took in the sight of Alfred’s glasses on, the game in his hands, and the sheepish smile on his lips, taking a deep, exasperated breath before he growled out, “I hope you step on a Leggo in the dark, you absolute burnt piece of toast.”

“Now, darling-”

“You’re a child.” He huffed as he rolled over. 

“You know I’ve been looking forward to this for a long-”

Arthur glanced at the clock before groaning, “It’s one in the morning! You can play in the actual morning. I was sleeping rather peacefully when you punched me in the face.”

“First of all, I didn’t  _ punch _ you. Secondly, that means it’s the afternoon for Kiku! And since Gil is visiting, they’re both totally playing it right now and they’re gonna spoil it all for me.” 

Arthur still looked unimpressed, so Alfred played his last move to convince Arthur to get on his side, “I can’t let them beat me.”

And as Arthur sighed, Alfred knew he’d won. “Fine. But don’t wake me up again.” 

“Cuddle?” Alfred held his arms out before Arthur could roll over again. 

“Don’t hit me again.”

And as Arthur curled back into his arms, he held him close and loudly announced, “No promises!” 

He really loved his strength, especially since it helped him hold onto Arthur and keep playing as the man tried to squirm out of his grip.

 

\----

 

Arthur was positively giddy. Perhaps it was partially hysteria, but either way, he couldn’t stop giggling or the bubbly feeling in his body that propelled his feet forwards. His hands were both clenched shut, one holding an ancient artifact of Spades, and the other holding onto another’s hand.

The man connected to that hand huffed behind him as they ran. They ran away from the palace, away from the rules, and away from the lies. They would fix it all. Somehow. 

And Arthur knew the clock in his hand would help.

“Tell me again why you stole it?”

Arthur laughed again, picking up his pace as the forest began to thin. “To fix everything. Finally.”

He could almost hear the eyeroll behind him, “That’s not an answer. Sort, I don’t even know why I went with you.”

The giddy feeling faded slightly, and Arthur turned his head to regard the man behind him. “Why did you?”

A shrug was his response, “You’re my Queen, I guess. I trust you, even if you’re being cryptic.” 

And the feeling was back, more powerful than ever. A fierce grin flashed across his face, “You wouldn’t happen to know of somewhere we could hide out?”

A groan, “You didn’t plan that far ahead?”

“We both know this is all spur of the moment.”

“Ugh. Yeah, I guess. We gotta start heading North, though.”

Glancing at the sky, Arthur changed their course slightly, and tiredness began to seep into his bones are he realized how late it was getting, “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

A responding snort, “Yeah, neither can I.”

 

\----

 

“Arthur.” Alfred whined from the couch, calling Arthur over for the millionth time that day.

And yet, despite how he complained, he still left his comfortable seat in his office to check on his boyfriend. “Yes, dear?” However, he could still be a little annoyed.

“I think I’m dying.”

He snorted, “This isn’t the eighteenth century anymore- a little period won’t kill you.”

“No, really. I think I’m dying.”

Arthur sighed and walked closer to his boyfriend, leaning down and petting his hair, “Would a bowl of ice cream fix this fatal wound?”

The speed at which Alfred perked up was almost completely pathetic. 

“Yeah!”

And yet, it was so endearing.

So he made his way to the kitchen and fixed a bowl of ice cream, digging out the chocolate sauce and whipped cream that would surely put his suffering boyfriend in a better mood.

“Here, you poor soul.” He handed the bowl off to the grabby hands and turned, fully prepared to get back to work, when the grabby hands returned, this time pulling at his shirt. Turning back around, he smiled softly at his boyfriend, who was holding the ice cream with one hand and holding the spoon in his mouth.

As he attempted to talk around the utensil, Arthur sighed and nudged his shoulder with his hand, knowing exactly what he was asking for, even with his garbled speech.

“Alright, alright. I’ll sit with you a little bit.”

The responding “Yay!” was still muffled by the spoon, but the meaning behind it was there. “Wait- get up.” The meaning there, however, less apparent.

“What?” Once again, he was annoyed. The thought of cuddling was rather appealing, now that the opportunity was there. 

“Can you get the heating pad from upstairs?”

Oh, the things one does for love.

 

\----

 

Love does strange things to a person. Love burns at your soul and adds an aching desire to show the other person every little side of you, good or bad, at the hopes they still like everything they see and decide to stay with you forever; Love is terrifying.

It is wonderful all the same.

But sometimes, sometimes that pure honesty and openness can scare you. And when you’re so used to being alone, it’s difficult. Sometimes all you can do is keep pushing, keep letting your partner know you’re there and you love all of them.

It’s scary. But it’s worth it.

Alfred finds himself face to face with a closed door and Arthur on the other side- so very far away with only an oak door between them. 

“Arthur-”

“Go away!” Arthur aching voice called out, and Alfred’s heart clenched at the sob that followed. 

He’d been fine. He’d been his perfectly normal, grumpy self. Then, a thunderstorm crept up. And sure, he jumped one or twice at a loud clap of thunder, but they all did. After so many wars, so many cannons tearing into you, watching so many bullets tear into others, it was hard not to.

But this- this crept up suddenly. It took one flash of lighting and a clap of thunder that was too loud, or too close, or  _ something _ and then Arthur gasped and was scrambling away, running through the house until he was in his room, pressing against the door and locking it tight.

Locking himself away from Alfred.

“Please, Arthur let me in-” A clap of thunder cut him off, and while he normally loved the charm of Arthur’s old house, the thin walls were suddenly a cruel reminder of how easily sound carried as Arthur whimpered. 

And it was that sound coming out of the man he loved that made him say, “If you don’t open this door right now I’m going to kick it down and-” The click of a lock cut him off, and he quickly opened the door to see Arthur standing there.

He was holding himself tightly, eyes squeezed shut in both embarrassment and fear.

Alfred knew he was trying to shut out the memories and forget. He’d been there before, and he’d continue to have episodes like this. They were horrible to experience on your own. He wasn’t going to let Arthur shut himself down.

He slowly took Arthur hand and led him to the bed, sitting him down and cupping his face. “Grab some blankets and pillows.” He moved quickly, digging through his suitcase and pulling out the headphones he brought over for his plane ride. He plugged in his phone, blasting music, and smiled as Arthur looked up at him confused, “We’re making a fort.”

“This isn’t-”

“It helps, trust me. Now put these on.” He handed Arthur the headphones and set to work draping the blanket over them, using books on the side tables to keep it pinned. He quickly moved pillowed around them, flinching only slightly himself at the next clap of thunder, but smiled when he realized Arthur hadn’t heard it. 

The man was still staring at him, and Alfred held his arms out, curling into his body and laying down at the pillows he’d made into a next around them. He draped another blanket over them, and held Arthur closer as the storm continued on outside. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! kudos and commetns are adored!! my tumblr is @inkwells-writing if you wanna participate the next time i do one of these!!!

**Author's Note:**

> if you want the prompt list, it's on my tumblr @inkwells-writing !! come follow it to see my stuff sooner and if you want to participate in these events or request stuff from me!!!  
> also, kudos and comments are appreciated!! tell me which drabbles you liked the most!!!


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